perhaps to be expected. WolfStar murdered some two hundred and twelve Enchanters, including StarLaughter and the child she carried. I can well imagine that their souls have drifted four thousand years seeking vengeance. Pray their vengeance is directed only at WolfStar.”
“I shall throw the Enchanter through myself if it will appease their need,” Caelum said. “I think I will ask WingRidge to mount a guard here. I would not like us to be … surprised.”
“No need,” said the Ferryman. “I shall stand watch.” WolfStar stood before the gate. The gate to the Maze, not the Star Gate. Its wooden doors were closed – thankfully. WolfStar hoped to be far, far away if ever they opened.
Did anything else follow those voices towards the Star Gate?
His hands drifted over the strange inscription in the stone archway surrounding the gate. It had taken him many years to understand this language. The language of the ancients, or the Enemy, as their enemies referred to them.
The Enemy that had crashed through from the universe so many millennia ago, creating the Star Gate. Leaving behind its deadly cargo.
He silently cursed, and concentrated on the inscription. Yes, there, there and there. StarSon. As it had been for the past forty years. For three thousand years before that the inscription had only mentioned the vague term “Crusader”, but a year after the birth of Caelum the Maze had changed its mind and substituted “StarSon” for “Crusader”.
Now the symbol for StarSon trumpeted forth, again, and again, leaping out from the gate’s inscription. This time the Maze was certain.
Well might it be. It was the Maze which had taught WolfStar the Prophecy of the Destroyer, and then commanded him to write it down and do all in his power to ensure its eventual realisation. After he defeated Gorgrael, Axis had asked WolfStar if the Prophecy was nothing but idiot gabble for his own amusement. Then WolfStar had hedged. He’d said that certain knowledges had come to him beyond the Star Gate that made his return imperative – true enough. However, it was not the Prophecy itself that had persuaded him back through the Star Gate, but rather the Prophecy’s true author. The Maze.
The Prophecy had a very clear and direct purpose, and it had nothing at all to do with protecting Tencendor from Gorgrael.
Its only purpose had been to breed the champion the Maze needed. The Crusader.
WolfStar had always assumed that the Crusader would be Axis, but the Maze had never named him. Instead it had chosen Axis and Azhure’s son Caelum.
WolfStar nodded. Of course. He should have realised that the Crusader would need both Axis’ and Azhure’s blood.
Then a chill swept through WolfStar. If the Crusader had been born and was now named by the Maze, it meant the hour of need must be nigh.
What else followed those voices towards the Star Gate?
He’d had three thousand years to prepare himself for this moment, and yet WolfStar wished he had three score more three thousand years.
StarSon! StarSon! StarSon! the inscription about the Maze screamed. Aid me now!
WolfStar turned very slightly so he could see the row upon row of seated birdmen and women behind him. There were hundreds of them, seated in orderly ranks, slowly swaying from side to side in perfect unison as they regarded the gate with part reverence, part fear, part love.
“Are you true?” WolfStar asked softly.
“True to the StarSon,” replied the hundreds of voices.
On each of their chests glowed the golden knot.
Zared caught up with the Ravensbund Chief, Sa’Domai, on Sigholt’s main staircase.
“What's wrong, my friend? Why has Caelum summoned us this early?” Gods, he’d only been back in his private chamber a few minutes before the impassive Lake Guard was banging on his door!
Sa’Domai shrugged, the tiny bells in his braided hair jingling merrily. “I can think of no reason Caelum would pull us from our beds this early, Zared.”
“Not for Council, surely?”
His question was effectively answered as RiverStar and Zenith joined them from one of the landings. Neither had a seat on the Council. Zenith, Zared noticed, looked as haggard as he felt.
She shook her head at Zared’s enquiring glance, while RiverStar ignored both him and Sa’Domai. RiverStar had her own reasons for feeling tired this morning.
Below them Zared heard FreeFall softly greet Yllgaine of Nor, then both the Icarii Talon and the Nors Prince were behind them. Zared nodded greetings at them, noting that both wore worried expressions.
What was wrong? Invasion? Surely not – who would invade?
Have farflight scouts reported the troops I have mustering west of Jervois Landing? Zared wondered, fear turning his belly to ice. But he quelled the thought quickly, filling his mind with jumbling images of the landscape between Severin and Sigholt. This place was full of Enchanters – and the most powerful of all would be in this hastily convened gathering. Zared needed none of them reading his mind. Even Zenith had indicated last night that she owed her highest loyalty to Tencendor itself.
Where were Herme and Theod? Not called to this meeting, that was apparent. Were they already in chains in the dungeons? Were their confessions already being signed with their blood?
Stop it! Zared carefully arranged his face in a neutral expression. Rivkah had carefully nurtured her son’s vivid imagination, now Zared cursed it.
Caelum lived in the spacious apartments that had once belonged to his parents. The central chamber was large, but it now seemed crowded with people moving about, finding themselves seats or stools, murmuring greetings, raising eyebrows in puzzled anxiety.
“By the stars themselves,” muttered FreeFall SunSoar behind Zared, clapping a friendly hand on the prince’s shoulder. “I hope my nephew has had the foresight to order us breakfast!”
Zared nodded, smiling slightly. He respected FreeFall greatly. The Icarii Talon was an extraordinary birdman, not only because, as most of the SunSoars, he was exceptionally beautiful with his violet eyes and silvery white wings, but because he had once died for Axis, only to have the Star God himself plead for the return of his soul with the GateKeeper in the realms of the Underworld. FreeFall’s journey to the gates of death had changed the birdman. He was still fun-loving and quick-witted, but there was a depth of experience and knowledge about him, even an eerie stillness, that touched the souls of all in his presence.
FreeFall found a stool to sit on, folding his wings neatly behind him and his hands patiently in his lap. Yllgaine of Nor, his dark eyes mischievous and his person beautifully clothed and jewelled even this early in the morning, touched Zared on the elbow. “There, a couch … if we leap and shove and scream I believe we can get there before Askam drapes himself along it.”
Zared bit his cheek to stop himself grinning and followed Yllgaine, decorous and polite despite his words, across the room, and sat down next to him.
He chatted quietly with Yllgaine about inconsequential matters while looking about the chamber. Caelum, who had called everyone so hastily from their beds, had yet to make an appearance. All the Five were here. Askam was lounging against a window, and Sa’Domai had taken a stool next to FreeFall. As well as RiverStar and Zenith (who, Zared was amused to note, had sat as far away from her sister as possible), Caelum had also invited SpikeFeather TrueSong and WingRidge CurlClaw. Zared did not know either very well. Both, if not aloof, were in some undefinable way unapproachable. Besides, SpikeFeather now spent so much time with Orr the Ferryman it was little wonder that few among the Achari – human, dammit! – race knew him well.